Dragonkeeper 4: Blood Brothers

by Carole Wilkinson

  “Kai, no!” he shouted.

  Kai took no notice. Further along the river, large stones had been washed down from the mountains. Tao ran along the riverbank and leaped onto the nearest one. Without thinking about the risks, he jumped from one to another and was in midair between the second and the third. They were too far apart. He landed hard, his chest on the stone, his legs in the river. The current was trying to drag him under. His staff had wedged in a crevice. He clung onto it and managed to scramble onto the rock.

  From this vantage point Tao could see that Sha was limp and unresisting. The current carried Kai towards the rocks and, using his tail, Kai manoeuvred between them easily. Tao could only think of one thing he could do to stop Kai killing Sha. As Kai passed between the rocks, he grasped his staff with both hands and brought it down on the dragon. Kai’s head snapped back to see who had attacked him. He let go of Sha and scrambled up onto one of the rocks, crouching menacingly, all four paws clasping the rock, ready to pounce.

  Tao stared into the dragon’s red eyes, his staff raised above his head, ready to strike again.

  “You hit me!” Kai said. He rubbed his head with a forepaw. “It hurt.”

  Tao gripped his staff. “You deserved it. I won’t let you kill poor Sha.”

  Just for a moment, anger sparked in Kai’s eyes and he raised a paw to strike Tao, but he held back. The red colour in his eyes faded and his aggression dissolved.

  Tao lowered his staff and looked into the water. There was no sign of Sha.

  “You have to save her, Kai.”

  Kai leaped into the river and Tao clambered back to the riverbank. Without the rush of anger, it was harder and he fell into the water more than once. Minutes passed as Tao sat shivering, imagining never seeing either dragon ever again. But eventually, Kai swam back upstream. His progress was slow as he stroked against the current with only one foreleg. With the other he was dragging the yellow dragon behind him. He pulled Sha onto the riverbank. She lay there motionless, her wings crumpled like wet rags, purple blood streaming from the wounds Kai had inflicted. Sha was no longer magnificent. She was small, as dragons go, and had used her skills to make herself seem larger in the air. Now her body looked thin and delicate. The thought of a dead dragon filled Tao with misery. Kai stood over Sha’s motionless body. His colours had faded back to green, his eyes were brown again.

  Tao was the first to notice Sha stirring. He was relieved that she wasn’t dead. She got shakily to her feet and made a sort of bow to Kai, bending her front legs and lowering her head till her snout touched the ground. Though Kai had won, he knew it was a hollow victory. He had allowed himself to give in to his blood lust.

  The dragons licked their wounds.

  “She is a healer,” Tao said. “She must know more herb lore than I do. Can’t she go in search of herbs that will cure these wounds?”

  “She has the skills to heal herself. It is the will to live that she lacks.”

  The yellow dragon lay in the grass, perfectly camouflaged. Her eyes were open, but she did not move. Kai was right. Sha had lost everything.

  “We can’t stay out here on the plain,” Tao said. “We must take her to Yinmi, where there is shelter and there are herbs to heal her.”

  Kai nodded. “I will find food to strengthen her for the journey.”

  Since the people who had farmed the plain had abandoned it, animals and birds had multiplied. Kai was able to find enough small animals, birds and fish for a modest dragon feast. For Tao he collected grains and vegetables that had once been cultivated by the farmers, but which were now growing wild.

  “Will you eat?” Kai asked him. It was late afternoon.

  “Yes; I will need strength to climb the mountain.”

  They managed to get Sha to eat some mice and a roasted thrush. Tao cooked the grain and vegetables and ate as well. He bathed the wounds that the dragons couldn’t reach with their tongues.

  “We should stay here until tomorrow,” Tao said. “Give Sha time to get some of her strength back.”

  Darkness fell and Tao sat with the two dragons around a small fire. There was a moon and the dragons glowed in its light, not bright like gems, but dull like burnished metal.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  WATERFALL

  “Sha would like to carry you up the mountain,” Kai said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Tao protested. “I’ve climbed this mountain many times.”

  They had started out early and reached the foot of the mountain just after noon.

  “She would like to do it. You have saved her life and she is beginning to believe that is a good thing, though she does not know yet where she will go.”

  Tao would have loved to experience a dragon flight where he was not terrified and dangling from talons, expecting to be dropped at any second. But he didn’t want to make Kai feel inadequate.

  “Tell her that Buddha forbids monks from travelling on vehicles and I’m sure that would include riding on dragons.”

  “You are not a monk yet.”

  “Just thank her for the offer. I’ll walk.”

  The climb was harder than Tao remembered. Though the rain had stopped, the mountain was still obscured by heavy grey mist and the path was wet and slippery. He wanted to watch the plain shrinking, the dark stain of Luoyang disappearing, but he could barely see the path beneath his feet. Tao couldn’t make out Sha above them either, and he worried that she would fly off. Kai assured him she was there. From time to time Tao heard a sound like someone shaking out a mat, which was the flap of the dragon’s wings.

  The first time Tao had climbed the mountain, when he was just a child, it had seemed impossibly high. When he had reached the monastery, he’d thought they were at the top, but the mist had cleared, revealing the mountain soaring above him almost as high again. He had gotten used to the climb over the years and, after visiting his family home, he was always well fed and rested. This time he was as weary as he had been after that first journey. It took hours to reach the hidden path that led to Yinmi. The final ascent up the steep track, slick with mud and wet leaves, was arduous. Tao fell many times, and in the end Kai led the way and Tao hung on to the dragon’s tail.

  The mist finally cleared just as they rounded the last bend. Yinmi Monastery hid among the trees like a timid animal. It was impossible to see the whole of the monastery from anywhere, but through the branches there were glimpses of a corner of a roof, a flight of steps, a latticed window. Tao could hear the novices just coming out of their quarters after their afternoon rest, noisy even though they were trying to be quiet.

  Everything seemed the same as when he had left.

  Tao turned to Kai. “Are you going to shape-change?”

  “I would like to show my true shape.”

  “Good. It’s time to be truthful. You’re a dragon and I’m a novice who has not kept the precepts. What about Sha? Will she come down and allow our herbalist to tend her?”

  “She will.”

  So Tao walked beneath the monastery gate dressed in a fine woollen gown and boots made of animal skin, accompanied by a large green dragon. He had barely paused to catch his breath in the courtyard, before the entire population of the monastery had gathered to stare at him. Every monk, novice and kitchen hand gasped as another dragon flapped down through the trees to stand behind Tao. The abbot descended the steps from his quarters. Tao kneeled before him and bowed his head to the ground.

  “I have failed, Your Reverence,” he said. “I bring no alms. I have lost my Five Possessions and broken all of the Ten Precepts.”

  He could hear the novices whispering excitedly to each other.

  “But I have brought something precious for safekeeping here at Yinmi.”

  He held out the bamboo cylinder.

  “I have heard about these ancient sutras,” the abbot said.

  Tao looked up. The cylinder was still unopened in his hands. He was about to ask how news of the sutras could have possibly reached Yin
mi when a small monk stepped forwards. Kai made a sound like scraping blades.

  “Ah, you have brought the scrolls. Excellent.”

  Tao’s heart sank. It was Fo Tu Deng.

  “I have told the abbot how I rescued them from the White Horse Temple when the nomads attacked,” the monk said, holding out his hands to receive the scrolls.

  Tao clasped the bamboo cylinder to his chest.

  The abbot reached down and helped the novice to his feet. “I can see you have much to recount, Tao. News of the attack on Luoyang has reached us. When you didn’t return, I feared that you had been killed in the fighting. I am glad to see you are unharmed.”

  The abbot turned to Fo Tu Deng. “Reverend Brother,” he said, “perhaps you could lead the afternoon recitation while I tend to our errant novice.”

  Fo Tu Deng still had his hands out ready to receive the scrolls. He let them drop to his side. “Of course.”

  “Could the herbalist be allowed to tend the dragons?” Tao asked. “They are both wounded.”

  The abbot called the herbalist over. “You might also be in need of his attention, Tao.”

  Tao’s wounds had almost healed. He needed nothing more than a bath and a salve for his blistered feet. As he followed the abbot to his quarters, he glimpsed his reflection in a puddle. He stopped to stare at the stranger he saw there. His hair was almost an inch long. His face was filthy. He peered closer. He had cuts and scars on every bit of skin that was visible, and the first signs of hair growing on his top lip.

  Sha told Kai which herbs she required to heal her wounds. Kai told Tao, and Tao relayed the information to the herbalist. Tao had a bath and was given clean clothes. Not robes. The only spare set had already been given to Fo Tu Deng. Instead Tao was given a pair of worn and patched trousers and a jacket that had belonged to the last brother to join the monastery. He had exchanged the boots for a pair of sandals.

  Tao kneeled before his abbot. The two dragons had also been invited into his quarters, but Sha had a fear of buildings after her time in captivity and would not enter. Kai stayed outside with her, listening at the door.

  “So, Tao,” the abbot said. “Tell me of your adventures.”

  Tao told the abbot everything. He could have left Pema out of the story, but he didn’t. When he had finished, the abbot sat in silence, contemplating what Tao had told him.

  “I have never heard such a tale outside the stories of the Buddha’s past lives.”

  “You think I am lying.”

  “No. I have no doubt that you are telling me the truth, although I believe you have misjudged Fo Tu Deng.”

  “But –”

  The abbot held up his hand. “You must concern yourself with your own errors before you judge others.”

  Tao bowed his head. The abbot was right.

  “I have failed to keep my vows, Your Reverence,” he said, waiting to be told that he no longer had a place at Yinmi.

  “All novices break the precepts on their path to monkhood as they gradually let go of the ways of their former life. True, I have never known one who broke all ten and in such a short space of time, but that does not mean that you are forbidden the monk’s life.”

  Tao was not as relieved as he thought he would be.

  Yinmi Monastery was small and remote, and Tao had always found it peaceful. But since his return it seemed closed in and crowded. He couldn’t go anywhere without someone wanting to know more about his adventures, the fate of the brothers at the White Horse Temple or the physiology of dragons. Whichever way he turned, if Fo Tu Deng was not in sight, Tao could hear his voice, as he ingratiated himself with the abbot or ordered the novices around. The only place where Tao could find peace was at the waterfall.

  The mist had dispersed early and he could see splashes of yellow and orange and red below him where the few deciduous trees were now declaring their presence after hiding in the evergreen cypress forest all summer. They gave Tao no pleasure.

  He took out his jar of sesame oil and safflower and smeared a few drops onto his palms. He let his sight blur and stared at his cupped hands.

  An image formed quickly. He could see three large oval stones, a mother-of-pearl shell and a bronze mirror. It was his first vision since his final bonding with Wei. The image was clear and sharp. He could see every detail as if the items were right in front of him, and yet he still didn’t understand the meaning of the vision.

  He didn’t hear Kai approach; the noisy waterfall covered any sound that the dragon made, some other sense told him to turn around. Kai came and sat on his haunches. Tao was about to tell him about his new vision, but the dragon had something on his mind.

  “There are words spoken in anger that still hang between us.”

  Kai was right. Neither had wanted to be the first to apologise for what they had said back at the White Horse Temple.

  “You are courageous,” Kai said.

  “And so are you. It was stupid of me to call you a coward. You are responsible for the survival of dragons in the world. It’s a heavy load. It would be like the future of all the Huaxia being dependent on me. I would have run away too.”

  Tao looked out over the plain to Luoyang barely visible on the horizon.

  “Remember the last time we stood here?”

  Kai inclined his head.

  “I would never have imagined that my life could change so much so quickly. I knew I was going to Luoyang, but I didn’t know what the journey held for me.”

  “Perhaps no journey reveals its true purpose until it is finished.”

  They sat in silence, listening to the clatter of the waterfall.

  “I said that you were not worthy of being a dragonkeeper,” Kai said. “That is not true. You come from one of the dragon-keeping families and you have the three characteristics – you are left-handed, you can hear my voice and you have strong second sight.”

  “I get visions I can’t interpret.”

  “I did not know it when I left the haven,” Kai continued, “but I was seeking a dragonkeeper. Someone to replace Ping.”

  “I have my duties here.”

  “Do you, now that Wei has left this life?” Kai said. “Perhaps you should allow yourself to run through the grass, shout and sing, smile at a pretty girl. You said Wei deserved those simple pleasures. Why not you?”

  Tao smiled.

  “However, I cannot offer the role of dragonkeeper to you.”

  Tao’s smile faded. “You don’t think I’m suitable. I don’t blame you for that.”

  Kai put a paw on Tao’s shoulder.

  “I think you are most suitable. I am certain that my journey was to find you and you alone. But for you to become my dragonkeeper, you must accept the dragonkeeper’s mirror. And I do not have it. It is in the treasure cave at the dragon haven.”

  Tao turned to Kai. “This mirror, is it made of bronze and about the size of a large peach? Does it have a dragon coiled around a knob in the centre?”

  “That is exactly what it looks like. How did you know?”

  “I saw it in a vision. It was on a flat rock next to a mother-of-pearl shell and three large grey stones.”

  “Those things are also in the treasure cave! What else did you see?”

  “Nothing.” Tao’s elation didn’t last long. “I can’t interpret my visions. You should search for someone else to be your dragonkeeper, Kai.”

  “There is no one else.”

  “But Ping has many descendants.”

  “She did have, but they have dwindled. Many were childless; few were left-handed. Now you are the only candidate.”

  Tao felt the weight of responsibility shift onto his own shoulders.

  “I’m not worthy.”

  “Neither am I. We make a good team!”

  The next morning, Tao took his place with the other novices in the Meditation Hall. There was no giggling now. They sat at a distance from Tao, in silent awe. Instead of his customary lecture, the abbot made an announcement.

  �
�We are most grateful to our novice Tao for bringing the holy sutras of Buddha to our humble monastery. As soon as they are translated, these sutras will be the focus of our study and meditation. It is Buddha’s will that Yinmi has become the home of these sutras.”

  The dragons were outside, but Tao could hear Kai’s scornful snort.

  “Buddha has also seen fit to guide the steps of a most holy monk from Tianzhu all the way to our gates. After conversing with Fo Tu Deng and realising the depth of his devotion to the Buddha, and his great knowledge of the Blessed One’s words, the way is clear to me. I have appointed Fo Tu Deng the Keeper of the Scrolls. He will translate the holy words. He has in turn asked that our most experienced scribe, Brother Shenli, be the one to transcribe them into Huaxia, so that they may be shared with other monasteries.”

  After everyone had left, Tao remained seated on the floor, head bowed as if in quiet contemplation. But his thoughts were anything but peaceful. Instead of going to the gardens with the other novices, he went back to the waterfall, hoping the gentle clatter of the cascading water would make his anger subside. It didn’t.

  Kai had followed him.

  “You are angry,” the dragon said.

  “Angry? I’m furious. I thought I’d rescued the sutras from Fo Tu Deng, but instead I have delivered them into his hands. Did you see Lao Chen’s face? He should be the one who translates the sutras.”

  “And you wanted to be the one who transcribes them.”

  “I would have been happy for any good brother to take charge of the sutras. Anyone but Fo Tu Deng. They will never be safe here. He will take them, not to spread Buddha’s word, but to use them for his own advantage.”

  Tao knew exactly what he had to do. He said the words aloud to see how they sounded.